


His Act

by RatTale



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Angst, Charity sees everything, Friendship, Gen, Growing Pains, Hurt Phillip Carlyle, Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, Nobleman could have it rough too, Oddities as family, Protective P. T. Barnum, Suggestion of abuse, partners
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26994940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RatTale/pseuds/RatTale
Summary: That attitude, that haughty sneer, and snide tone was enough to make Barnum want to scream. Shock turned to ash in the sudden flames of rising anger. Phillip had so deliberately dismissed him, as if he was no better than dog shit.Everyone has an act, but if Phillip isn't careful, Barnum might just kill him.
Relationships: Charity Barnum/P. T. Barnum, P. T. Barnum & Phillip Carlyle
Comments: 14
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

In a tight, high-pressure environment such as a Circus, it was inevitable that arguments would break out amongst their troupe. And with people already high strung, sensitive and volatile over their broken bodies and blemishes. It ended up becoming an almost daily occurrence.

Charles in particular had a nasty habit of zeroing in on a person’s greatest insecurity. Many a fight had started from an ill-placed word from the midget. Adam, their dog-boy had a violent temper, and they had had to pull him off a few performers after a snide comment had rubbed him the wrong way. Even their local Giant had once punched a beam so hard it had cracked under the impact.

Barnum didn’t give them too hard of a time for these instances. They needed to let off some steam, they needed to feel free to be themselves and not feel pressured to be something they weren’t. God knows the world had done that long enough. He tried his best to keep these outbursts under control, by ensuring they all understood his door was open if any issues should arise that they felt they simply could not handle. A safety net, should they need one. But he also told himself that despite sheltered lives and broken homes, they were all grown-ups. They could and should be able to handle their problems.

However, now and then, arguments held the promise of a full-blown explosion.

“P.T. wants controversy!” Anne’s voice carried over the usual bustle of the circus. Barnum paused in his examination of a new scathing review – Bennett was becoming downright brutal – sparing only a light glance over his shoulder. Anne and W.D. were crowded around Phillip, who, at the moment seemed calm enough to handle the two seething acrobats.

“Yes, he does, but there is a line,” Phillip said, voice cool. “I would appreciate it if the both of you would keep behind it. As I have asked you twice now.”

“Ya ain’t the boss of us, pretty boy.” W.D. moved in closer. Barnum felt a spike of anger for Phillip’s benefit. “P.T. hired ya for yer money, not your meddling.”

_No_ , _I didn’t_ , Barnum thought.

But Phil smiled, “No, I have been hired to keep controversy to a minimum for the time being.” He turned to W.D., keeping a sharp smile in place. “And you can keep your derogatory remarks to yourself, Mr Wheeler.”

“I’m gonna _knock your teeth out_!”

“Hey!” the word burst from Barnum as he took wide angry steps towards the three, his coat flaring out behind him. “What the hell is going on here?”

Phillip made to reply, but the two-trapeze artist spun around to Barnum before the man could say a word. In quick succession they explained the situation; they were practising a new routine when Phillip told them they would have to change it. W.D. made sure to include ‘little tit’ and ‘arrogant bastard’ in the mix. Phillip stood silent, back straight and expression blank waiting for Barnum’s response.

After the two had calmed somewhat, Barnum raised both hands as a means of keeping it that way. “The act is good, but I do understand Philip’s concern.”

“Ya takin’ the little shit’s side?”

“Stop that right now.” Barnum snapped, his voice dropping low with anger, his finger practically jammed under the man’s nose. “Now God knows I don’t mind a little passionate profanity now and again. But whether you like it or not, Phillip is my partner in this show. He is part owner, and you will show the proper respect or I will throw you out myself. Are we clear?”

W.D. held fierce eye contact, but Barnum would not back down, and slowly the man’s gaze dropped to his feet, “Aye sir.”

“As for the act,” Barnum dropped his hand. He had seen the routine as well – raunchy, vulgar and downright obscene. It was controversial, it was dirty, it was everything he looked for in a show. Numbers had been dwindling a little of late, a good bit of controversy might just be the thing. His eyes met Phillip’s, who seemed perfectly at ease with the situation. If a little stiff in his posture.

Barnum turned back to the two acrobats. “You can do the act; we’ll see how it goes down with the crowds.”

W.D. instantly turned a vile smirk on Phillip, but before the situation could escalate further, he was quickly pushed away by Anne, leaving Phillip and Barnum alone.

When Barnum turned back to Phillip, the young man was staring straight ahead, his gaze seemingly focused on the hay bales. Barnum plastered on a bright smile and clapped his partner on the shoulder. “The act is a little rough Phillip, but I think it will pull some interesting crowds.”

Phillip turned his head only slightly towards Barnum. Acknowledging him in an almost offhand sort of way. The expression akin to a nobleman trying to discretely stare at a homeless wretch. Then he said in a perfectly calm and cordial voice; “Of course. This is your show, you can do with it as you please Mr Barnum.” he did not smile, and when their eyes met, Barnum felt a weight settle on his chest, making it suddenly hard to breathe, “I still have some work to do, so if you will excuse me.”

Phillip left, leaving a reeling Barnum in his wake. That attitude, that haughty sneer, and the snide tone were enough to make him want to scream. Shock turned to ash in the sudden flames of rising anger. He’d so deliberately dismissed him as if he was no better than dog shit. Barnum rubbed his mouth, trying to bring himself under control and left the ring, heading up to the office.

The rest of the morning was spent fuming, avoiding Phillip and trying to focus with little success. And if he spotted his crew giving Phillip a hard time, he ignored it. Snide little bugger could do with being dropped a peg or two.

* * *

“And then I avoided him for the rest of the morning.”

“And you believe this was the best course?”

Phineas paused to look up at his wife, who was now giving him a faintly amused and surprise look. Meeting with Charity had become a daily occurrence. Every day they would have lunch at a lovely little cafe close to the theatre. It was always the high point of his day, and the best way to bring focus to the things he couldn’t quite figure out. But this morning’s interaction had cut under his skin more than he would like to admit. Hit a spot not even degrading reviews or sneering fathers-in-law could touch. He replaced the coffee cup and sat back.

“Yes, I do. Why?”

Charity leaned a little closer, trailing loose fingers over his hand, “Phineas, when you hired him it was so that he could tell you when you were being too controversial in the show, to ensure you could start luring in the carriage class. And now when he does his job, you overrule him. I’d have done a lot worse than using a snide tone with you.”

“It wasn’t like that!”

She smiled, her eyes were bright with mirth.

“Okay, okay,” he leaned back, his hand fiddling with his napkin. “It was a little like that.” She was right, of course, she was right. “I’m just used to bargaining on that. It’s difficult to let go of that element of the show. It feels like I’m leaving something behind.”

“You are,” she said softly, taking his hand in hers and gently coaxing his fingers to wrap around her own, “But just remember why you started it in the first place. Why you hired him. You gave him a certain responsibility; now give him the space he needs.”

He smiled back, “And let him do his job?”

“And let him do his job.”

He huffed a hard sigh, “I tell myself they can take care of themselves and then I jump in to help in any case.” shaking his head, he held onto her hand loosely, taking comfort from her presence. She could always banish any darkness he might come across, in the real world or darker parts of his head.

“You like to play the hero.”

“A little.”

She remained silent for a time, simply tracing his fingers, making him lull into a softness he so rarely indulged in these days.

“Do you know why he was a scandal?”

Barnum shrugged. “He was an alcoholic?”

“No,” she said. “His plays,” when he didn’t reply immediately, she continued. “They tended to be a little unprecedented. His first play was about a young peasant girl, how she survived the Great Plague and finally opened a hat shop. His second the story of a man who’d fallen from nobility to become a tailor and was able to find his happiness there.”

Barnum blinked, perfectly surprised. “I didn’t know that.”

“You never watched any of his plays before hiring him.” She said, “He understands controversy, Phin. Better than you can ever imagine. He understands how to make that controversy appealing to the masses who would normally not be open to such commentary. He can make you so proud if you let him.”

Barnum nodded, tightening his hand around hers for a moment. He understood, he was smothering him, he hired him, now he had to show that he trusted him to do what he did well. But a lingering tension stuck to his chest like tar. It was one of the reasons he felt so rattled, so shaken to his core. The way Phillip had turned to him, had spoken to him, dismissed him, it had made him feel… Instantly his chest tightened his hand as well.

“Phin?”

He looked up; her eyes concerned all of a sudden. He smiled brightly, forcing the ugly feeling down into his shoes. “I’m sorry. Thinking about something else.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“No.” he stood and pecked her on the cheek. “I’ll be back late or tomorrow; I have a few meetings in town.”

She reached up to pull him down for a proper kiss, “Be safe.”

“I will.”

When he stepped out of the cafe he hesitated a moment before starting back to the theatre.

Phillip might just be adjusting to his new situation. The thought had crossed his mind, it was a big change, and perhaps Phillip’s strange behaviour could be stress-related. He was willing to give the man some time before confronting him.

When he entered the building, the oddities were already making ready for the next crowd. The familiar commotion calmed him right back down and his smile slid into place with perfect ease. Lettie was sitting in her usual spot, fanning herself and watching the others rushing to get ready. He always liked talking to Lettie, she had such a wonderfully calming effect on a person. Like finding a sudden spring shower in the desert heat.

“Ready for the show?” He asked, she looked up and flashed him a bright smile.

“Course,” but her attention was quickly pulled back to the ring where two gentlemen were standing on the outside, watching the proceedings.

“Who is that?” the two certainly did not look like their usual clientele. Prim, proper and handsome the one man stood out like a sore thumb amongst the oddities. His breeding apparent in stance and attitude; no one would move him without some effort.

Lettie’s face went dour, a sure sign she was uncomfortable and unhappy. “Mr Richard Carlyle and his Assistant Mr Dew.” She waved the fan, her eyes never leaving the two, “They’re here to see Phillip.”

It was surprising how quickly his mood shifted at those words. How quickly his curiosity died in the face of anger. He’d heard of the Carlyle’s down the grapevine, through the gossip channels, from his wife. Very little he heard had endeared him to the family, having them standing in his theatre made a monster rear its damned head inside of him.

He smiled, “Gotta meet the family, Lettie.”

Her only response was a quick smile and shake of her head.

“Good day to you, sir!”

The two turned. The first had a portly face, a dour sort of expression that belied a sneer hiding just at the edges of it. Behind him, the second gentleman was slimmer, almost frail, bundled up in coat and scarf, despite the current temperate being only cool, not cold. The pure-bred in his stance was not difficult to see.

Barnum smiled and held out his hand to the first man, “P.T. Barnum at your service, I understand you are Phillip’s brother?”

The first gentleman straightened imperceptibly, his eyes narrowing for a moment before flashing a brief tight smile, “Mr Dew, at your service sir. I am the assistant to Sir Richard. He is here on personal business to speak with his brother, and only needs - “

“Well, I am sure Sir Richard can explain all of this to me himself.” he dropped his hand, his eyes never leaving the stoic man who had now dropped his gaze to stare disinterestedly at the ground. “Or perhaps he is too well-bred to speak to the lower dregs of society?”

If at all possible, and Barnum had been quite certain it hadn’t, the smile sharpened, the words cutting and dipped in venom, “Certainly not. Sir Richard rarely speaks to anyone, I am his communicator and corroborator, sir.”

“Oh, I understand,” Barnum tried to move around Dew, but the man was quite nimble for his size, swiftly, yet elegantly blocking Barnum from reaching Carlyle. “I suppose one wouldn’t want to be exposed to the wrong influence, like Circus people.”

That struck a nerve. Carlyle stiffened slightly his eyes narrowing briefly before he looked up and without making eye contact, touched his hat in greeting. Then he turned and headed back to the front doors. Dew quickly followed, offering a brief nod before charging after his master like the fat dog he was.

Barnum watched them go with growing satisfaction, but a dark dread settled in his stomach. He quietly hoped this wasn’t a precursor for worse things to come for Phillip.


	2. Chapter 2

They ended up starting late. The damned rigging was giving them problems again, but after their tattoo man, Holtz checked it and W.D. gave it a quick test, it appeared to be fine. Barnum made a note to get a professional in at some point.

Holtz agreed, in that dark dead-pan way of his that felt more like a threat than an agreement. Barnum shuddered a little, and adjusted his coat to get his mind off of it. Outside the people were taking their seats, loud and bustling. He smiled. The anticipation at the start of the show always had a wonderful air to it. Like a trapeze artist hanging in the air, wondering if she would be caught.

He loved that mix of dread and excitement.

Glancing behind him he spotted the Strong Man and Phillip in an animated discussion. Even from a distance he could see the tenseness in Tim’s stance, the vicious tightening of his fists to keep them from flying out. And all the while Phillip kept talking, either oblivious or outright ignoring the man’s anger.

Tim took a step closer, looming over Phillip, but whether it was stubbornness or breeding Phillip did not care, only tilted his head a little higher said something else then turned and left. For a horrifying moment, Barnum was certain Tim would pursue him. He looked about ready to tear his head off. A wild fist flew out and smashed into the wall, leaving another dent, and he stormed off.

Barnum closed his eyes and tried to focus on the show.

They finished late and so all of his meetings were moved back, and Barnum found himself trudging up the stairs to his office, dead tired and painfully bitter that he’d missed the train. He just wanted to sleep and forget the whole damned day.

After a short talk with some of the troupe he learned that Phillip’s biting attitude had only worsened since that morning, becoming almost insufferable. According to a few sources, he’d even made _Lettie_ cry.

And still Barnum felt a little reluctant to confront the man. A sway of uncertainty engulfing the incensed anger. He simply did not understand it. When he’d met Phillip the man had come across as good, kind and sensible. Why in the world would he make such a complete 180?

To Barnum the whole thing reeked of something darker, licking at the edges of his mind, trying to grab his attention. Images of _Sir_ Richard and his Mr. Dew were easily conjured, but he shook it off. Excuses were just that, excuses. He rarely accepted them for himself, and almost never for others. Phillip had to get his act together. And fast.

But for now, at least just for now, he would speak to Phillip about his say over acts, and confirm that Phillip had the right to make changes where needed. As for the other matter. He sighed, he would discuss it should it arise, and try not to let his anger get the better of him.

Damn it all.

The office was quiet when he stepped in, but he stopped in the doorway. Phillip was sprawled over his desk, completely lost to the world.

And some of his ire fled. In that instant the lad looked his age; barely 25. Too old to be considered a boy, yet young enough to still be learning. Perhaps it was just stress. Too much too soon? Phillip was good for the circus, and he worked hard. His strange attitude might just be youthful arrogance. God knows he certainly had an abundance of it at his age. Hell, he still had an abundance of it.

With some of his anger a little tempered, Barnum felt confident in pursuing the topic and so stepped up the desk. “Phil?”

No response.

“Phil!”

The man snuffled and settled a little more comfortably. Keeping down a tired smile, Barnum grabbed his shoulder and shook, “Phillip wake up!”

He may as well have electrocuted him. Phillip sprang up, eyes wide and for a moment flashing with fear, but as quickly as it came it vanished, leaving him standing behind his desk looking a little lost. “P.T.” he said, his hand reaching for his throat when it croaked quite spectacularly.

Barnum sighed, “It’s past midnight, what are you still doing here?”

“Could be asking you the same thing.” He shot back before collapsing back in his chair. Barnum took a moment to scan the desk, it was littered with bank statements and accounts. Clearly the man had been working hard, as usual, and just over done it a bit. It further softened that hard anger. Phillip was an _asset_ , he had to remember that.

“I got stuck in town running a few business errands, missed the train and came back here.” Said Barnum, leaning on the desk next to Phillip, hoping to ease the man’s tense posture a little. If they were going to have this conversation, he would prefer it if Phillip was not so… grouchy.

But it had the opposite effect. Phillip immediately leaned away from Barnum, masking the distancing attempt with a stretch, his shoulders popping at the motion. “You should go find a hotel then,” and without even looking at him, Phillip reached out to pick up one of the statements, as if to dismiss him.

The pulse of anger reminded him with bright burning clarity why he was still angry with Phillip. All excuses for his abhorrent attitude fled in that instant and without thinking Barnum’s hand slammed down on the page with a loud smack. Phillip jumped, angry and for one moment Barnum was certain the man would actually snap at him. But the anger was smothered under that same cool mask, and he asked, voice haughty and cool “Is there a problem, sir?”

All the fight and energy drained out of Barnum in one second. He bent his head and pressed a hand over his brow, completely done in. Tired of the whole damned affair. “I hate it when you do this.” He said, surprised at the sheer exhaustion in his own voice.

A pause, then, “Do what, Mr. Barnum?”

“This!” he yelled, “This damned _act_ you pull!” Barnum started pacing, his energy coursing and snapping all over the place. “This aristocratic, snobbish, high-class pedigree bullshit you shove in my face to make pretend you are in control of any situation! I aint got no time for it, Carlyle! And I swear to God I will knock that little smirk off your face, if you do it again!”

Without missing a beat, Phillip stood up smiled and said; “Well, Mr. Barnum, everyone needs an act.”

Barnum gaped. His jaw practically hitting the floor and he watched his partner walk around the desk and towards the door, dismissing him like some dirty floor rag. With barely controlled rage, Barnum sprang into action. Phillip had barely taken three steps when he grabbed him by the arm and ripped him back inside.

Unbalanced, Phillip hit Barnum’s desk, slamming both hands on the desktop to keep from falling over. Taking a moment to catch his breath, Phillip turned around, back straight and expression as prideful as ever. The silence felt heavy between them. Barnum was breathing hard, but he made a conscious effort to calm down.

This was not going as he’d planned. Not in the slightest. Damn it. “Sorry,” Barnum said, voice tight. “I didn’t mean to be so rough,” he pressed a quick hand over his eyes, “But dammit Phil, that way of yours is enough to make me want to hurt you…”

When he looked up and Phil was standing dead still. Back straight as a soldier, head high as his noble birth allowed, and eyes as cold as ever. With a tone filled with false innocence he asked. “What way would that be, Mr. Barnum?”

It was like having fire ignited under his skin. In two wide strides he charged at Phill, barely registering the man’s eyes closing, as if bracing for impact. His right hand slammed down on the desktop next to him, boxing Philip in. “Dammit Phillip! Stop _doing_ that!”

In his rage he’d closed his eyes, the anger flickering behind his lids. When he opened them, it was to the sight of Phillip, pale and shaking. Beneath the white shirt he could see him trembling slightly. The anger faded dimmed, leaving a sort of tired emptiness. Damn it all to hell and back. “Shit, look I- “

The man jolted at the voice; his breathing tight and controlled. He turned towards Phineas and without making eye contact (instantly bringing up the picture of his noble brother), said; “If you will excuse me.” And slid past him, heading for the door.

“Wait!” his hand clapped around his arm, Phillip’s sudden flinch feeling like a punch to the gut.

“Please let go.” Phillip still kept his eyes away, his body hunched, his entire posture communicating the need to flee.

“We need to _talk_ , Phillip. This isn’t going as well as I’d hoped, but we need to talk.”

“I won’t leave,” he promised, “But, please just let go.”

It was the waver at the end of the voice that made his hand release the thin wrist. Philip stumbled away, hands pressing on his own desk as he took hard controlled breaths. He let him calm down, gave him the moment he needed. Barnum had no idea what the hell was going on in Phillip’s head, but it needed to be addressed. He had no more excuses, and he simply would not stand for this haughty act.

After the sixth breath, Phillip finally uncurled from his hunched posture, he turned made eye contact with barely concealed anger. “What did you wish to discuss?”

He can see the effort it took to remain standing, to keep up the facade of superiority. The image of a peacock was brought to mind, regal and beautiful, but flaring its feathers as both intimidation and bragging rights. To intimidate others in backing away, to show how much better he was.

The pulse of anger cut through him again. A damned peacock will always make him feel like a pheasant.

“Stop acting like you’re better than us!” the second the words erupted he knew what it was he’d been feeling since that morning; worthless. Everything he’d achieved became suddenly small and insignificant in the face of a nobleman, who could sneer him down beneath his boots. Not any nobleman, but a person he trusted and cared for. Someone he’d _let in_. It stung and cut deeper than he ever imagined it could. He hated allowing such a weakness to run rampant within him. Not only that, but to allow anyone to see it.

His hands slid over his face roughly, yanking down to gesture wildly. “Just stop it, just fucking stop treating us as -!” Damn it all. After one final tense grip he ripped his hand away from his hair, and looked up at Phillip, where he stood slumped against his desk, a hard hand pressed over his brow, hiding his eyes. He could see the man breathing hard and loud.

But sympathy had been thrown out in favour of pure unadulterated rage. “Lesser.” Barnum said, almost spitting it. “That is what you’re doing. You treat us as _lesser_.”

“What?” a look of absolute bewilderment met him. Barnum remained silent. “No! I don’t think that, I would never – “

“You don’t _think_ it.” Barnum advanced, voice low, “But you sure as well treat us that way. When you walk around with that haughty stride, and use that snide tone of voice, you believe yourself to be better than us. You can’t do that to them.” He stopped a few feet away, “They won’t stand for it. _I_ won’t stand for it.”

The look of utter bewilderment changed to shock, “I didn’t mean to – “

But the anger still coiled, pulling back to strike again, “Drop this damned act! You treat us like dirt because you have to keep your damned pride intact!”

“No!” Phillip jumped up, “That’s not what it is!”

“Then what is it?” Barnum stalked even closer, and his partner quickly backed up away from him. When he didn’t answer, Barnum pushed on. “You’re not in high society anymore! A little humility Phillip goes a long-damned way!” the snake spat, but it was not done yet, “ _You_ are the people I keep them safe from. Mobs are easy to spot, but you, you’re a snake circling beneath their feet. Unseen and ten times as deadly. Worst of all, you _pretend_ to be their friend.”

“How dare you! I am not some false pretender sneaking my way around them waiting to stab them in the back first chance I get! I care about them!”

“Well they don’t give a damn about you!” he hollered, “They hate you! And if you did care, you wouldn’t act like you’re better! You wouldn’t make Lettie cry and treat me and everyone else as if they are _beneath_ you!”

He gaped, eyes wide and bewildered, completely shaken. “I… don’t, I didn’t mean…”

“If you do this again Phillip, I will throw you out, disowned or no! I will not have any such snide arrogance in or around these people! They’ve been through enough!”

For a very long time Phillip did not respond, but Barnum waited, taking a moment to calm himself. If Phillip did not acknowledge his mistake now, if he made any sort of excuse for his behavior, he _would_ throw him out of this Circus.

After some time, Phillip’s expression faded into a sort of blank hollow stare, then he nodded, “Of course.” He swallowed, keeping his head low, “I’m sorry if I offended or hurt anyone.”

“Apology accepted. Glad we had this talk.” Barnum said brusquely, going over to Phillip’s desk, “Now, this can be done tomorrow.” He gathered the papers, noting mostly bank statements, debts, and salaries…

He paused. This should have been finished already. This should have been done days ago. Holding up the page he turned to Phillip, “Why isn’t this done?”

Phil straightened; his gaze flitted all over the room before settling on a spot behind Barnum’s shoulder. “It was a little busy this week. I’ll get it done tomorrow morning, early.”

“See that you do,” he said, “Go get some rest.”

Phillip nodded, grabbing his coat, hat and cane. “Thank you,” he said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night.”

Without another word Phillip left, pulling on his coat as he did so. Barnum watched him through the office windows, noting the exhausted stride and stiff shoulders. Almost without thinking he back up and leaned against the desk. His head landing in his waiting hands. The conversation had run away from him, left him exhausted, drained. Not at all what he’d hoped to achieve.

Something was wrong. Despite their talk, Barnum could feel it in his bones. He was missing something important. He shook his head and headed for the couch, he needed some rest too, finding a hotel this time of night was too much effort. He collapsed on the couch and struggled to find any sort of rest.


	3. Chapter 3

Voices pulled him up from sleep. A sort of rumble of commotion punctuated by laughter. He turned on his back, flopped back down and sighed. What time was it? With a groan he hoisted himself up into a sitting position and looked around. The office was empty. The voices wafted up from below. He stood, nearly tripping over the blanket around his legs, and walked to the window. Peering through the glass he could see the troupe were gathered below, all in costume and getting ready for the show.

Show? His head snapped to the mantle-piece clock: 09:30.

What? Barnum spun, kicking the damned blanket out of the way and grabbed his coat and hat, and rushed for the door. He paused only a moment to grab a half-filled glass of water perched on Phillip’s desk to quickly down it. Upon slamming the glass down, he noted the clean desk and filed paperwork. All the salaries were done. Barnum blinked, when had he even come in?

Shaking his head, Barnum charged down the steps, only having time to get a brief ribbing from his troupe before rushing to the doors, which were already creaking open to let the people in. Barnum plastered on a bright smile, welcoming his audience and tried to not think about how damned tired he felt.

* * *

The trudge up the stairs was, despite the herculean effort, almost heavenly. The morning had felt ten times as long and all Barnum now wanted was a cup of coffee and a soft place to park himself for a few hours. Reaching the top, he heaved a long sigh and spared one last glance down below, just to be sure everything was alright. Lettie was laughing loud and hearty, Dog-boy standing close and shaking his head at their strong-man, who seemed rather flustered. He chuckled, glad to see his people happy. His eyes quickly picked out the main figure of his concerns; Phillip.

Leaning on the banister, Barnum peered at him. Phillip was talking to Charles, and even from a distance, P.T. could see that Phillip seemed far less self-important than yesterday. His chin instead of jutting proudly had dropped, where before his shoulders were stiff, they now drooped a little, his entire posture was one of submission. Already a tension lifted from his shoulders, he didn’t want to lose Phillip, and it seemed things were working out a little better. But a new tension clenched on his stomach.

Charles laughed loud and big and Barnum watched as Phillip nodded, turned and headed to the front doors. Barnum narrowed his eyes, and headed for the office for a cup of coffee.

Over the course of a single week, everything went back to normal, Phillip kept himself in check and his troupe seemed far less troubled. The darker tension lifted as well, the Circus was running smoothly, everyone seemed happy and now they could finally move forward. Sometimes, he thought, a little tongue lashing was perhaps good for the ego.

One afternoon show, at the end of a long week saw the pleasure of having his greatest audience; his family. His girls and wife were in their usual seats, laughing and completely taken in by the new acts. Barnum never performed as well as when they were there. He felt he could do ten shows in a row, as long as he had their eyes on him.

With a flourish the show ended, the audience jumping to their feet after the dramatic finale. With cheers chasing him from the ring he trotted straight to his wife and children.

“Hello my two angels!”

His two girls hugged him tight and he pecked each a loving kiss on their heads.

“Are we still getting chocolate?” said Helen, voice betraying her sorrow.

He laughed and hugged her a little closer, “I promised you chocolates, and you shall have chocolates!”

As answer he received another hug and peels of delight. With a wide grin Barnum looked up to find his wife who had wandered off. He spotted her in the shadows speaking to Phillip. Barnum quickly made his way over.

“Hallo, darling.” He said, giving her a peck on the cheek. Charity turned a bright smile on him.

“I was just talking to Phillip about the new routines.” She said, voice sweet, sending a sudden alarm bell off in Barnum’s head. He looked over at Phillip who was fixated on a spot over Charity’s shoulder.

“Oh?” he said, laughing, “Anything that caught your interest?”

“I thought you were going to minimise controversy.” Charity’s voice, although polite, held a certain edge to it which he’d learned never to ignore. He turned a smile on her, he knew it wouldn’t work, but always did it in any case.

“I’m sure the audience enjoyed it.”

Her smile tightened, “Your _children_ certainly did.”

Oh bugger.

“I haven’t seen the office in quite a while,” she looked up at the first-floor landing, “I would like to make sure you boys keep a clean space.”

Phillip smiled, strained and small, “We do try.”

“I’d like to check for myself.” she turned to Barnum, “Join me when you have a moment, darling.” and off she walked, leaving Barnum painfully nervous. He turned to smile at Phillip, perhaps get a little support from him, but the man had already disappeared, slipping into the shadows to check something with the ticket salesmen. Barnum huffed a sigh, and started the long walk to the office. Postponing the inevitable would only make it more painful.

When he walked in, she did not turn on him with a flurry, she did not demand he shut the door in that hard voice, nor did she turn a disappointed glare on him. Instead she kept her back to him, staring out the windows at the circus troupe below. “How did the conversation go with Phillip?”

The opening question usually offered him a decent idea of why she was upset with him. If anything, Charity did not beat around the bush. But this time he felt some confusion. Despite the question, she still didn’t seem upset. Only genuinely curious. He decided to proceed with caution. “Alright I suppose.”

“Tell me exactly what you said.”

“Why?”

“Because that boy is broken, and I would like to know what happened.”

The words needled straight into the point of his soul he’d tried to ignore the whole week. Guilt bloomed from the prod, and Barnum straightened a little. “We never really got around to talking about the controversy problem.”

“So, what did you talk about?”

He pauses, feeling the familiar dread he’d missed at the beginning of this conversation.

“Phin.”

“I spoke to him about his attitude towards the rest of us.”

“Oh?”

“He had this way, Charity. Just this way of looking down on us.” The words landed hard between them, offering no terrain for Charity to argue. “As if he believed himself to be better and we lesser. A nobleman’s arrogance I hopefully nipped in the bud.”

Charity stared at him, her expression unreadable, but he could feel a sort of underlining sadness pinned to it. She turned back to the window, watching the troupe below, “Do you remember when we moved in together?”

“Of course!” he laughed, “It was the best day of my life.”

She smiled, “Mine too.” she took a hard breath, “I was so excited to be with you, to share my life with you. But to be honest Phineas, it wasn’t easy for me.”

“Your father didn’t make it easy.”

“That, of course.” she swallowed, “But I… _missed_ everything I had lost.”

His smile fell away.

“I missed the parties, the gowns, the horse riding across open farmlands. I missed morning tea with friends who suddenly refused to speak to me. All the wonderful books in my father’s library. The maid that cleaned every day, something I had to learn by myself. I missed being able to walk into a store and being treated like royalty, and I despite what you might think, I missed my parents.”

“I never knew. Charity, I’m so -”

She turned quickly, pressing a hand over his lips to silence him, “No. Don’t apologize. Despite everything I missed, what I’d gained made up for that a million times over.” her hand fell away, “I had you, Phineas. To keep me grounded, to remind me what I’d gained.” she turned back to the window. “I see in Phillip that same loss, the pain of friend’s shunning him, of being scorned and sneered at, of a father’s hate for a choice that is supposed to make him happy.”

Barnum looked out the window where Phillip was speaking to the workers about fixing the rigging. Sure enough, now that she mentioned it, the luster and energy he’d had only a few weeks ago had been sapped from him completely. Barnum wondered why he hadn’t noticed it before, and instantly realized he had, he’d just pretended it wasn’t a problem.

She turned back to the window, “He is drowning Phin, but he’s desperately trying to stay above water, with no one there who is willing to pull him up.” She touched his arm, “You gave him wings, you need to show him how to use them. Or he will fall.”

But Barnum frowned, “I’m not going to let him talk down on us just because he needs to, Charity. You never did that!”

“I’m not saying you should. I’m saying he needs someone to guide him, he is falling back on hold habits because that is the only way he knows how to deal with people of this class.” she held up hand again, “They are beneath him in class, no matter how badly you don’t want that to be true, it is. He has a very specific upbringing, years and years of grooming that is almost impossible to remove. They have nothing in common, no common ground, nothing to discuss or bond over. He is isolated. He needs help.”

Phin did not reply.

She touched his arm, “He wrote stories about the lesser folk and gave them a voice amongst people who would never listen to them, why would he look down on them?”

“He used them to make money?” the second he said it, he knew he’d been had,

Charity smiled, “You of all people should know that is not always the case.”

He nodded.

“I know you feel wounded; I know your ego has been hurt by the way he treated all of you, but I cannot in good conscious blame him for his bitterness.” She turned back to the window, watching Phillip call out to someone above them. “Teach him to fly, Phin. He is ready, he just needs a push in the right direction.”

For a long moment Barnum found words had left him. The part in his soul still harboring the smarting anger was being gobbled up at a fierce pace by the growing guilt. What Charity was not saying directly, what she was politely implying was that he had, in his way, let Phillip down. With a sigh he stepped up to her. It hurt to realise it, but at the very least he could now try and fix it.

Quietly, he drew her closer and pecking her on the cheek he whispered. “Thank you.”

Charity kissed him back and held him close, Barnum taking great comfort from her presence and her wisdom.


	4. Chapter 4

It turned out that finding time to talk to Phillip proved difficult. The following days brought with it two new acts and a lot of commotion. Barnum kept up the pace, adding one whole extra show a day. But he still could not convince his troupe to do anything on a Sunday. Really, being so picky over a day!

But apart from the new schedule and acts, he realised in between these chaotic moments, that whenever he looked for the man he was nowhere to be found.

At first, he was quite certain Phillip was avoiding him. What else could it be? The man barely spoke to him, barely acknowledged him, and often walked in the opposite direction Barnum was heading. But upon questioning his crew, he realised it was a bit more than avoidance.

No one knew where he took lunch.

No one knew where his apartment was.

No one knew what he did in his breaks. If he had any.

It was as if the second the work was finished Phillip disappeared, only to magically reappear the second something had to be done. Like some working-class Fairy Godmother. It _irked_ Barnum, and his worry began to mount in leaps and bounds.

He had to speak to Phillip. But how can he do that if the man didn’t want to even stand still long enough to catch his breath?

Perhaps he could convince Charity to invite him over for dinner. It would certainly alleviate a lot of problems, and Barnum doubted Phillip would say no to Charity. She always had this certainty about her that one could rarely say no to. He smiled, one of the many reasons he loved her so.

Decision made, Barnum told himself that he would bring Charity to the Circus, catch up with Phillip (send out a hunting party if he had to) and get her to ask him to come over for dinner.

In some ways, he rather felt like a child who needed his mother’s help. He tried not to think about it too much.

The final straggling customers left through the doors and Barnum happily waved them away, hoping to take quick a break before the next show which was due in one hour already. He paused halfway to the office. No, six hours. Of course, they’d dropped one of the shows today, something his crew had demanded after such a rough week.

With such a long break, perhaps he wondered if he might be lucky in his search for his partner.

Adjusting his stride, Barnum headed to some haybales where a few members of the crew were chattering and eating lunch. Barnum smiled at them and one or two offered a brief wave as he walked closer.

“Have you seen Phillip?” he asked.

Lettie looked up and offered him a light smile, she pointed to the roof. “He’s checking the rigging, there’s something wrong with the ropes.”

“Again?” Barnum looked up and let out a heavy sigh. Sure enough, Phillip was clambering around the very top platforms checking the ropes with Holtz. How was it that the blasted things kept giving them trouble? He’d have to have that looked at properly when he had the chance.

“Damn,” he said, “I need to talk to him.” He paused and added more for her benefit than his, “About an act.” Would do no good for the troupe to know there might be tensions between the owners.

Lettie’s only response was a rough snort and roll of her eyes, “Another one?”

Barnum smiled, “Gotta keep it diverse- “

Her eyes went wide. “ _Phillip_!”

Barnum’s turned just as Holtz grabbed Phillip’s hand who had tumbled over the railing. His partner was dangling from the rafters, completely limp. Barnum’s heart jumped straight in his throat, his feet moving without thinking. Vaguely he heard more people running forwards, but above the commotion, he heard Holtz’s yell loud and clear; “He’s slipping!”

“Someone, get a net!” Barnum yelled and a few of the crew quickly ran backstage.

“Shit!” Holtz's grip slipped and Phillip fell headfirst to the ground.

“Someone, catch him!” Barnum boomed above the growing cries and screams. Dear God someone, please catch him!

And there was W.D., swinging in on one of the ropes. With a grace only an acrobat could manage, he slammed into Phillip midway down. His whole body wrenched with the impact, his grip instantly slipping as well. “He’s a dead weight!”

“Let go of the rope!” Holtz called. “The rigging isn’t set! It’s gonna break!”

“Net! Get a damned net!” Finally, two acrobats rushed in, spreading the net in the centre of the ring. Without a prompt W.D. let Phillip go, who hit the net completely limp – out cold. They quickly removed him, and moments later W.D. let go as well caught safely by his friends.

Barnum fought his way to the front. Phillip was still unconscious but thankfully breathing. “Phillip?” he said, shaking him, but there was no response, “Phillip! Damn it! What the hell happened?”  
  
He looked up but Holtz held his hands high, completely bewildered.

“He just fainted!” said W.D. sliding off the net, “He seemed a little dizzy, so I kept an eye on him when I saw him stumble a bit. Next thing I knew he went over.”

Barnum wiped his face with a shaky hand, “Well done, W.D.” he turned to the others, “All of you, well done.”

They all murmured acquiesces, but all eyes were focused on the unconscious man. Taking a hard breath to calm himself a little, Barnum nodded at their Strong Man, Tim. “Let’s move him to the office?” Tim nodded and quietly lifted Phillip to carry him up the stairs and to the office, cradling the man tightly against his chest. Worried eyes followed them all the way up to the office, where Barnum quietly shut the door.

Tim put Phillip on the couch as carefully as if he had turned into a fine porcelain doll. Barnum’s heart pounded; he couldn’t get it to stop pounding. Fuck it all. So close and Phillip would be dead a corpse. But looking at him now, he was damn close to one.

“Get Arnold up here, would you?”

The large man nodded and walked out. Barnum sat on the edge of the couch, examining the pale face and drawn features. He looked _exhausted_ , his skin sallow, his brow sweaty. Terrible was an understatement. He looked close to death.

Barnum sighed and pressed his face into a waiting hand, the screams echoing in his head. It’d been so _close_.

“Mr Barnum?”

The small clerk stood at the edge of the office, his eyes watery behind his spectacles with a bald head covered by thin threads of grey hair. The image would be rather pathetic if Barnum didn’t already know that Doctor Arnold Butler had once been a fine army doctor. One of the best, or so it’s said. Despite now working as a clerk at a nearby shoe store, the small man had become their go-to doctor since opening the circus. He was a blessing, not only for his experience and skill but also for his understanding and kindness, something all of their unique oddities deserved above all else.

Barnum stood and gestured for the man to come in. “Doctor, good to see you. Thank you for coming.”

He smiled, face trembling a little at the motion, “Not at all, Mr Barnum, I am always happy to help. Now, what happened today? Broken arm, broken rib? Or just a good bump on the head.”

“None of that.” He couldn’t find it in him to even smile. “He fainted out of the blue, can you check him over?”

“Ah!” he said and took over Barnum’s earlier seat on the couch. Barnum only moved a few feet away, his eyes shifting between Phillip and the doctor. What if he was sick? By his pallor and sweat-soaked face, it could very well be.

Barnum swallowed stiffly. He’d lost his father to a fever; he couldn’t watch another waste away like that.

When the doctor removed his stethoscope, Barnum eased closer, his heart already hammering like a drum in his ribcage. “Well?” he asked, “What is the matter?”

“A pinch of poor nutrition, a teaspoon of dehydration and an extra-large cup of exhaustion.” He said, smile firmly in place.

“What?” he asked, “That’s it?”

The doctor folded the stethoscope to stuff back into the bag and came to a shaky stand. “I suggest good rest, a few cups of water and a good meal. That should do the trick nicely.” He patted him on the shoulder, but Barnum barely registered the action.

“Are you sure?” he couldn’t take his eyes off Phillip, “He’s not sick or with a fever?”

“Oh yes perfectly sure. I saw it many a time on the battlefield!” he headed for the door, “Men who don’t take care to take care of themselves will be taken care of by the heat and swelter.” He chuckled and paused at the doorway, “Your young man will be fine. Just make sure he rests, drinks and eats.”

“How much do I owe you?”

“No charge Mr Barnum,” he waved a languid hand, “Just take care of him. Good day!”

And with that the doctor nodded and left, leaving Barnum standing stock-still in the middle of the room, his words spinning around in his head like a drunk carousal. Phillip was exhausted, starving and dehydrated. Run ragged by his Circus to a point that he fainted. And almost died.

Suddenly Phillip’s avoidance had nothing to do with Barnum and everything to do with his work. The late paychecks came to mind, the constant running around, the late-night hours, the never-ending tasks that always came up. Phillip was overwhelmed.

Barnum sat down in a nearby chair. Dear God, he’d almost indirectly killed him. How bloody stupid could he be? How had he managed to overwhelm the man so utterly? He wanted to shake him awake and demand why Phillip hadn’t spoken to him? But the thought came and died instantly. After their vicious argument, why in the world would Phillip confide in him? He’d let him down. In so many ways.

Glancing at Phillip again he felt another wave of sickness hit him. The man truly looked like death. With a heavy sigh, he poured a tall glass of water, moved a small table next to Phillip and placed it on top of it, along with the apple his daughter had given him that morning. It’s a start, when Phillip woke up, at least he’ll have something to drink and eat.

It had been so damned close.

“Barnum?” He was pulled from his misery by W.D. who was standing in the doorway, “The men are here to fix the rigging.”

“Thank you,” with a final glance at Phillip, Barnum turned and left. Hoping he would finally have time to speak to Phillip and apologize.

A few hours later he saw the workers to the door, the rigging finally properly set and his pocket a little lighter for it. There were still a few hours left before the next show, and Barnum wanted nothing more than to close his eyes for a bit. But with Phillip out of commission, he had to make sure everything was running smoothly.

And there was so much to do.

A bright purple dress moving towards him caught his eyes and he smiled, “Hello, Lettie, how are you?”

There was something wrong, she wasn’t smiling, her entire demeanour screamed of worry and uncertainty. Barnum held out his arm, “Phillip will be fine, Lettie, he’s just – “

“Phillip’s gone.”

His mirth died, “What?”

She instantly looked down, her hands wringing around a piece of paper, “I went to check on him, to make sure he didn’t perhaps need anything?” he nodded quickly to assure her he wasn’t upset.

She cleared her throat, “The office was empty and I … found this.” She held out the piece of paper and Barnum snatched it up.

_I, Phillip Carlyle, hereby return my shares of 10% of the Barnum Circus to Phineas Taylor Barnum_ _and resign from the circus effectively immediately._

And there was his signature along with the date.

Barnum moved. It was easier than thinking, he couldn’t think, couldn’t believe it had come to this. He charged past his troupe, through them, over bales and pounded up the stairs, running down the landing and straight into the office –

It was empty.

The desk was cleaned, the blanket neatly folded and all proof that Phillip had even been there was a half-drunk glass of water. Barnum sagged against the doorway, his heart beating, his throat turning tighter with every second. No, he can’t let it end like this. He hadn’t even had the chance to make it right.

Grabbing his hat and coat, he stuffed the note in his pocket and charged back down to the ring.

“You guys are on your own tonight!” he called, flinging on his coat as he did. Various heads popped up at the call, some stumbling to follow as he made for the doors. “Phillip’s left and I need to go and find him.”

“Why boss?” asked Charles with a bright chuckle, “He’s gone, so what’s the problem?”

The words were almost enough to make him stumble, but he managed to turn it into a rough stop. He turned around to find the troupe staring at him, most of them confused, some smiling. For a moment he couldn’t breathe, his chest rotting up with something foul.

“You were trying to get him to leave?”

Charles chuckled again, “Well, yeah, he was a bit of a dick.”

“And arrogant,” said Holtz.

“A rich little snob,” W.D. called.

“A right little shit,” said Tim, arms crossed, expression furious. A few laughed.

Barnum felt sick. No, this can’t be. “Why?” he managed through the haze of shock.

Charles shrugged, “Ya didn’t like em, did ya?” There were a few murmurs of agreement. “So we just helped it on a bit. Now you don’t have to fire him.”

Realisation dawned. It took every ounce of strength not to scream, not to holler and bellow and yell, not the crumble into a heap and damn himself for his own stupidity. The troupe was loyal to him. They cared about Barnum if he’d turned against someone if they’d seen it…

He closed his eyes, surprised to feel them pricking with tears. How had it come to this?

When you undermined his authority when you stopped reprimanding them for insulting Phillip when you stopped caring about how he was being treated. When you treated him like an intruder and not as part of the family.

A deadweight settled on his shoulders. How was he to fix any of this? Barnum removed his hat, dropped his cane and turned to his troupe. Their humour died little by little. With a hard sigh, he gestured to the bales, “Everyone take a seat.”

A few did as they were told, all quietly sitting down, many opted to remain standing, but all eyes were on him, the sombre atmosphere suddenly quite potent. “You all made a point of pushing Phillip into leaving and from your answers it sounds as if you not only had a problem with his attitude but also what he represented. High-society.”

“He wasn’t exactly one of us, boss,” piped Charles, crossing his arms. “He’s a hoity-toity, he doesn’t know us, and he never will.” A murmur of agreement whispered through the group.

Barnum waited for them to quiet down. “To be an outcast, one does not need a blemish, a mark or a skin disease. Sometimes it is the world that makes us outcasts, nothing of our own doing.” Barnum swallowed, trying to hold down the urge to yell. “You have been shunned your entire lives, each and every one of you know what it feels like to be hated. Phillip only ever knew acceptance until now. And then, because of me, it was all taken away.” He shook his head, “People who loved him, who cared about him turned their backs so quickly he was suddenly alone. And the one place he was supposed to find acceptance, where I never doubted he would find it, he was met with hate.”

He waited for any sort of reply, but none came. Barnum sighed, “You can’t deny that he cares so much. It’s why he clambers up on the rigging or makes sure Dogboy gets the skin medication, and Charles always has clothes that have been tailored made. Did any of you say thank you? Or were you happy to have an ‘upper-class snob’ serve you?”

A few turned their eyes to the ground.

“But how can I blame you? When you were only following my example.” His hands curled into fists, “He collapsed today because he burned himself out for people he cared about, but who didn’t give a damn about him. I am angry, at you at myself, but I am also ashamed of all of you!” the silence felt hard, deafening, “Not for _what_ you are, but for what you have done.” He grabbed his hat and cane, “Now I’m going to find him, and bring him home. Because I _want_ him here, and really, it’s all he’s got left.”

With a tight nod, he turned and left. Whatever they might think, he would try to bring him back, they would talk and Barnum would apologize. He quietly hoped it would be enough.


End file.
